Burn
by Rebecca Pierce
Summary: You watch it with a silent fascination as terrifying as mine, this game we play. I know you don’t want it anymore. I know you want to watch it slowly burn.
1. Prologue

**_Burn_**

**Prologue**

* * *

_He should have seen it coming from the start._

At first it had been the distance she began to put between them. At the time, he had thought nothing of it. She began to not answer his calls as frequently. Their conversations, usually long, now were cut short by her weak and single phrased answers and her voice sounded hesitant, as if she didn't want to talk to him, her mind drifting more and more into a place Yamato could only wonder about.

Next it had been her reactions to his touch. He swore he saw her flinch once, but she passed it off with the faulty excuse that she didn't feel well. His stormy blue eyes didn't miss the guilt and regret that lay within her crimson orbs as he backed away from her slightly, confusion written across his own features.

_It shouldn't have been so hard to decipher._

She rarely gave him more than a peck on the cheek or a weak embrace. She barely spoke, her eyes wandering to look sadly to the skies. The warm look he had once seen in her gaze was dead, her eyes reflecting nothing but his own wonder as to what had happened. And as time dragged on, he knew he had to let her go; it was written all over her pained features.

It wasn't like he hadn't confronted her over it, he had tried. But every time he managed to corner her, she found an excuse to change the conversation, to leave, or simply didn't answer.

_It shouldn't be this hard._

Her gaze pleaded for him to let her go. And whether it was out of revenge for her own cowardice or his own fear of letting her go, he turned face and tried to act as if nothing had happened.

Anger began to well within his hardening heart.

The concerts she had attended ritualistically to watch him play now held no more meaning when he sang of love. Every time he would look down at her and every time she would stare right back, her gaze as empty of love for him as her beating heart of life.

_I should have known all along._

It shouldn't have been a surprise to him really. He had seen it coming a mile away.

_So why does it hurt?_

He found them by mere coincidence. He really hadn't meant to walk out of practice to play "errand boy" so to speak.

_Why him, of all people?_

A bagful of assorted candies, each handpicked for the picky members of his band. In his other hand was clutched a water bottle that was half empty. Or was it half full?

_I'm so stupid._

The alleyway was narrow, dark, and certainly less than comfortable for any type of activity of any means. The ground was dry and there was trash littered around their sneakered feet. A few shoots of thin grass blades were scattered about, being crushed mercilessly by the pair currently trying to be swallowed by the shadows during their passionate encounter.

_Please stop my heart._

Yamato Ishida stood watching for a moment, the water bottle that was being swung idly now limp at his side. The sweat that had lined his temple from the adrenaline on stage seemed to dissipate, a cold shiver running up his spine as he stood rooted to the spot.

_Please._

He didn't turn away; he didn't flinch. He didn't even bother to stop them. He simply stood, his gaze becoming darker and emptier as piece by piece, his heart was taken apart completely.

_I never did understand you._

And then as simply as he had come, he turned, the bag in his grasp making the slightest of noise.

But it had been enough.

He heard her gasp of alarm, and out of the corner of his eye noticed them pull away from each other. His best friend, her "affair", stood still from shock, watching as Yamato simply walked away.

_Click._

His shoes hit the pavement in a soothing rhythm.

_Click._

A choked sob.

_Click._

Silence; the sound of their shock.

_Click._

The sound of the lock released; the sound of the gate as he closed it behind him as he entered the school without a second thought. The sound of his sanity finally snapping.


	2. Keys

**Welcome to Rebecca Pierce's new story Burn. :D **

**A/N: This chapter is still rated "T" (for language and some drug references), but I have an "M" rated version as the original (mostly language XD). It doesn't have any big changes except a word here or 2. . . but if you want a copy of that version, send me a review saying so. I just wanted to be on the safe side with the whole rating ordeal. . . yep. Trying to keep it under "M" for once. Lol. **

**Enjoy! ;)**

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* * *

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**Ch.1: Keys**

* * *

Yamato Ishida was a loner. Always had been, always would be. Even when Sora Takenouchi had entered his life, she hadn't managed to change him. 

God knows she had certainly tried.

It felt strange to be alone. It was like having an enormous weight lifted off of his shoulders. But at the same time, it felt like the tremendous weight had been lifted so suddenly, so _cruelly_ off of him that he was left reeling and wondering in his dazed state if things had happened as they did.

Funny.

One glance at the two teens seated together on one of the outdoor lunch tables was enough to remind him that indeed she was with Taichi, and that yes, that was her laughing lightly at one of his jokes, and him grinning like a madman. Just like Yamato had done in the beginning.

Now looking at the two, he wondered how she had the audacity of displaying her new love so openly in front of him. But then again, it wasn't like she couldn't. Heck, from what he heard, the band's fan girls were giving her hell. And for once, Yamato simply looked away and pretended to not see anything. It wasn't like they were doing anything _too_ bad anyways. Not only that, but she had a new man to stand up for her now.

Hell if he was going to play the pitied ex.

Yamato didn't mean to say he wasn't angry with her at all, oh _heck_ no. She had taken his heart and shredded it to bits with those short nails of hers, offering no consolation as she literally waltzed into his best friend's arms and didn't bother to offer an explanation. Not only that, but she had permeated every bit of his life. He couldn't even go home without finding one of her post-its on the refrigerator, his computer monitor, or even by his favorite pair of boots. He regretted giving her a spare key to his family's apartment. Every time he walked through the school, he regretted having let her wrap her arms around him, snuggling into him as they had walked the halls together. And he regretted having ever allowed himself to let her walk into _and_ out of his life so easily.

Stupid, _stupid_ heart.

Even Takeru hadn't managed to get anything out of him after he noticed the strange behavior and lack of company. Which was shocking and slightly hurtful to the younger of the Ishida sons. But time heals all wounds, no? Takeru would understand.

That anger Yamato had would be just another small shadow in his heart in a few weeks. Hopefully. Maybe. Or at least later on it would. . . In a couple years. . . If he made it that far without going completely insane and jumping off of the nearest overpass and onto oncoming traffic.

All he knew was that if he saw one more look of sympathy on anyone's face, he was going to put them out of their misery.

So. . .

Now that he didn't have her constant company at his side, he wondered what he used to do to occupy himself, and he cursed at his weakness for having let her literally drown out everything else in his life. Except music of course. But even that she had penetrated in some form. He was definitely going to scrap all the music he had written for her. As if he didn't have reminders enough of everything she was to him.

Oh, with what menial and unimportant task would he fill his time with now?

Yamato Ishida didn't drink; he never had (okay, so he had tried it once). The stuff tasted like shit anyways.

Smoking you ask?

He'd tried it once. It wasn't as satisfying as they made it out to be. It was like burning yourself from the inside out to the point where you could feel the pipe of your throat down to where it met your stomach sizzle. Sorta like dropping scalding hot coffee down one's throat, except this one sent dry tendrils of smoke out your nose and suicidal pleasure into your lungs. And the aftereffects and clinging smell were _horrid_.

Drugs were useless as well. Why knock yourself silly? He didn't want to be more of a clown than he already was. Obviously his performance was not enough to entertain the red head currently seated shyly beside Taichi Yagami. And he wasn't about to dig himself into a deeper hole for her or anyone else. She didn't deserve that pleasure.

Clubbing, music, a job? No. . . maybe. . . Leave those in the "to be sorted" pile please. Schoolwork, cleaning the house himself (HA! What a surprise THAT would be!), hanging out with friends. . .? Mmmm. . . Maybe. . . Maybe no-

_Whap!_

"Hey!" A smack upside the head. Wincing and putting a hand to his hurt head, Yamato looked up with surprise at the sudden intrusion.

"Hey, Heyner. What's up?" He asked his classmate in a monotonous voice. Heyner didn't take the hint, or chose not to. Yamato guessed the former. Darn his blockheaded ways.

"When's your next concert man, everyone's dying to hear what new stuff you cooked up lately!" There was an excited grin on the blonde haired, brown eyed boy's face. "Your fan base wants some new tunes, yo. I know you'd hate to disappoint the ladies."

A smirk and a devilish wink.

Oh Gods, screw the ladies. They were better off all jumping off a-

"Listen Heyner, I honestly don't know. I have a lot to do lately, so I'm thinking of bumping next month's show back."

At _least_ a couple weeks. No, months. Or maybe years. Better yet, how did _NEVER_ sound?

"Aw, shame man, shame. But what can you do, right?" Heyner laughed, shrugging.

_You could start by leaving,_ Yamato thought in annoyance.

Honestly, there was nothing wrong with the sophomore boy, but he just somehow rubbed Yamato the wrong way. His mere presence was enough to screw up Yamato's mood. And why that was, he certainly had no idea. He did feel a little guilty about it, but he shoved that away to muse on later when he was bored in government class. There were better things to brood on anyways.

"Alright, see ya' later Yamato." With a lazy wave and a grin, Heyner turned and walked off to find some classmates.

Hey, mental powers? Hahaha.

"Yeah, see ya." Yamato muttered a little too late. He rose from his spot on the grass as Heyner left, dusting his black uniform pants off. Bending down, he picked up his messenger bag and shouldered it, his mind empty of any thoughts as he slowly headed for his next class before the bell rang. He had always hated the suffocating crowds of over-enthusiastic underclassmen.

Opening the double doors sluggishly, he realized with some annoyance that the force he used to open the doors seemed much greater than he remembered it ever being. Maybe it was those two hours of sleep finally catching up to him. Or the lack of appetite. Or both?

Nonetheless he continued through the empty halls, his mind on nothing in particular as he listened to his own footsteps and the incessant, incoherent lectures being given to students itching to get to their own lunch break.

Ha. Suckers.

The hallway made him dizzy when he looked at it. The white tiles were off white now, being put to much abuse by the students roaming her halls. The lockers were battered, most of them having some form of expression -eh, graffiti- in wonderfully artistic swirls of hot pink and neon green. And the blinding overhead lights weren't helping matters much.

Needless to say, the architect had tried his (or her--you never know these days) best at matching the building in a nice pattern of black and white. The doors were black, the lockers black, and some black, randomly scattered tiles made the floor seem like a horrible excuse for a checker board.

Oh wow.

Why hadn't he ever noticed how much this school truly _sucked_?

_BANG!_

He jumped at the loud noise, his mind registering a couple seconds later that it had been the distinctive noise of a frustrated hit against a locker. Rolling his eyes, he continued walking down the empty hall that had separate smaller halls branching off of it. The noise probably was coming from the hallway he was approaching.

Either a really stupid freshman or a newbie altogether. Probably a freshman. Even newbies knew how to open lockers alright, he assumed. It was a freaking locker for crying out loud, how hard could it be to-

_BANG BANG WHAP!_

_Shut up already, freshman!_ Yamato thought with a scowl. He was tempted to yell it.

BANG!

Rolling his eyes, Yamato sighed in annoyance and slowed, looking down the side hallways for the obnoxious being breaking into the comfortable silence. Readjusting his heavy messenger bag, he frowned as his footsteps became more hurried. The faster he got it over with, the less time he had to interact with whoever it was.

He continued down the middle hall, his keen ears picking up a groan of frustration. It was then he realized the noise was coming from the hallway he was supposed to go to for his next class.

Wonderful. Two birds with one stone.

Turning into the immediate left branch, he noticed a figure hunched over by a blue locker on the bottom row near the end of the hall. From what he could see, it was a skinny little boy in civilian clothing, his gray hoodie way too big for his frail looking figure. His hair was bright red, short, and spiky; that much Yamato could tell from far away. He wore red and white sneakers that seemed a size to big for his feet - were those _capris_ he was wearing?

Oh Gods, a queer.

Don't take it the wrong way, he thought they were cool people, it was just that he had had some rather -ahem- _interesting_ situations arise from the "rabid fan-boy" section of his band's fan club. Nonetheless, he thought they were nice people. The normal ones at least. Some of his friends "swung the other way", so he knew for a fact some of them were indeed normal (and he prayed this kid was one of the nice ones). So he didn't feel at all uncomfortable as he approached the smaller teen. Just a bit wary.

"Any harder and you'll get busted for the noise."

The boy visibly jumped, turning to Yamato as he approa-

Whoa. Did he say boy? He stood corrected.

As _her_ head turned, he realized that the short spiky hair was actually a ponytail with wild spiky ends. At least he had hit the color right, no? Well, partially anyways. Up close he noticed her honey blonde highlights, two strands framing her face as she looked up at him with a frown. Her lips were spread grimly, her pale skin seemingly perfect. She could've passed for a doll if she smiled. Her bangs were cut to tease the tips of her nicely arched eyebrows, a challenge in her expression by the downward slope at the beginning of each brow.

Her eyes were violet.

"Well," She began in a barely restrained voice, "if the freaking thing decided to cooperate, I wouldn't necessarily be banging on it now, would I?" She snapped irritably.

For someone with such a bad attitude, she had a nice voice.

Sorry, music muse speaking.

Yamato frowned as he dropped his messenger bag beside her nearly empty blue backpack, kneeling beside her. "Gimme the number."

"I didn't say I needed your help." She retorted immediately. Yamato met her gaze with his own, a scowl tugging at his lips. He was offering her help and _this_ is what she repaid him with? Oh, heck no.

"Will you just shut up and give me the stupid combination?" Thrusting his hand out, Yamato glared at her. Geez, people these days. . .

He realized he had said the wrong thing as her eyes lit with a stubborn determination. Honestly, he didn't really give a shit, but he had pent up anger he had kept bottled up inside, and her stubbornness wasn't helping matters at all. This wasn't going to end well.

"No." Yamato rolled his eyes, getting up. It was wiser to cut the damage while he could.

"Fine," He said, glaring at her, "take your damn time opening the thing and getting late to class, stupid freshman."

Mistake number two.

If her eyes had been determined before, now they were positively burning with a fury of their own. He notice her fists clench as she tensed. It was as if she was willing to _physically_ fight him on it; itching to pounce on him without a second thought. Now looking at her reaction, he regretted opening his mouth. Heck, he regretted having left lunch early.

And okay, so maybe he hadn't really meant to let out that last part. . .

"For the record, _jerk_," she said scathingly, "I'm a freaking _senior_."

Oops.

Maybe it was to save the last shreds of her dignity, or she just wanted to have the last word, but Yamato watched as she grabbed her bag, shouldered it, and stomped down the hall. But not before giving him an ever so friendly gesture with her middle finger.

The little b-

And then he noticed the white piece of paper that fluttered to the ground as she left. He walked towards it with mild curiosity, debating whether or not to pick it up. The lazy part of him said screw her, he hoped it was important so she'd suffer a bit looking for it, but the other side of him was too curious to resist the temptation. Wait, temptation from a piece of paper?

How sad.

Bending down awkwardly (he still had his bag, mind you), he retrieved it and unfolded it slowly, his curiosity reaching his expression as his stormy eyes skimmed the messy writing with a frown gracing his features.

**Locker 221**

**16-20-30**

And then, Yamato couldn't help the grin spreading on his face.

_What goes around, comes around._

And for the rest of his day, he actually felt satisfied that something had, if only once, gone completely his way.


	3. Angels and Demons

**A/N: Hey, welcome back. :) I want to give a shout out to all my reviewers, thank you guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

_xxStained in Negativityxx_

_xxRomance Fighterxx_

_xxthe fallen enigmaxx_

_xxSimonxx_

_xxVerandaxx_

**Ch. 2: Angels and Demons**

* * *

It was Wednesday today. That day he despised the most. 

See, it was stupid really, but he couldn't help it. He hated it. It was that day midweek that made him feel like he had one foot in the beginning of the week and one near the end of it. To make matters worse, he could already begin to feel a bad day growing on him. It was just a nervous twitch he would get- sort of like an itch that he couldn't quite reach inside his mind. That persistent feeling that if his life hadn't been bad enough, now it would definitely hit the record lows.

And as if it wasn't enough of a mockery on him to make him survive a whole "in-between" day, he came smack dab with the last person he wanted to see first thing in the morning. On a Wednesday. With no caffeine in his veins and less than an hour or so of sleep.

She was standing by his locker, her hands clasping her book bag in front of her. As usual, Sora Takenouchi's uniform was pristine and her short red hair was flipped out just so with the few stray bangs held firmly away with pink flower shaped clips. Her crimson eyes were roaming the hall, an idle smile tugging at her lips unconsciously as she rocked back and forth on her feet.

She was the epitome of calm.

To say he was shocked at her sudden appearance out of the _freaking_ blue was understatement of the year. But that didn't mean he wanted to deal with her petty "we need to talk" attitude. That was a load of bull he just didn't feel like wasting his time on. And he sure as hell wasn't going to anytime soon either. Besides, he really didn't need anything from his locker. And even though he would have to carry one extra textbook that he wouldn't need until after lunch, he didn't even bother to hesitate. He'd prefer lugging the damn thing around if it meant not having to see her face.

Frowning, Yamato swiftly turned around in the crowd of students, walking away without bothering to notice that she had seen him, and that her eyes reflected a look of hurt and guilt. Besides, what was that little bit of pain compared to what _she_ had put _him_ through, right?

* * *

Lunch was as boring as yesterday, finding the musician sitting in his usual corner, with his usual crappy sandwich, and usual monotone observance of his schoolmates in quiet brooding. He was perched with his back against the school wall, the cement hard underneath him as he pulled one leg up slightly to rest a hand on. 

Brooding. . . Boredom. . . Sora. . . Ugh.

Frowning, he made sure that tomorrow he'd bring his English book with him. At least that way he'd kill two birds with one stone. Homework finished, time killed. Great. Wonderful. Boring.

"Hey Yamato!" Looking up, he noticed Heyner waving him over to a table across the courtyard, where he and a couple friends stood hunched over looking at something. Yamato was lazy but curious, and in the end, he couldn't resist anything that could let him kill the lunch hour for him. Sighing, he gathered his things and stuffed the last bits of his sandwich into his mouth, chewing as he shouldered his bag and headed over.

He noticed Sora's glance from her own seat at a table not too far away but acted as if he hadn't seen it.

Reaching the table, the others present made space for him as he dropped his things carelessly into the makeshift pile beside the table. Heyner pulled him over and pointed to the table, where there were cards with different pictures set up in linear order, some stacked on top of others like a strange version of solitaire. Sitting in front and directly across the table was a girl brown hair pulled into two buns, her brown eyes welcoming him behind the thin rimless glasses she wore. She had discarded the black uniform blazer beside her, white ribbons swinging from the two buns and brown bangs falling over her eyes.

"She's reading the cards, want to give your fortune a shot?" Heyner asked. "She's not charging us anything either!" Yamato raised an eyebrow, a frown pulling slightly at his features.

"I don't believe in that stuff." He said, already realizing that he was going to head back to his spot sooner than later. "But I'll watch you guys go." Or maybe not.

"A non-believer. I understand." The girl said, smiling mysteriously. Her eyes locked with his, a shiver running down his spine as he tried to read her. She only smiled in response at him, the look in her eyes seeming to tell him that she could read into his deepest thoughts.

He didn't like her already.

"Still, wouldn't you like to try it for fun?" Heyner insisted. "Come on, it's free man!" A childish grin.

Isn't that what the crazy friend always said the first time? Like the first beer, or the first joint? What about the first time you pulled a crazy stunt on the road? Honestly, he wasn't that stupid, but Yamato felt that one of these days, Heyner might contribute to his demise. Luckily, that day wasn't today, and for crying out loud, they were just a bunch of cards with strange pictures on them. . .

Yamato looked from him to the other students, finally letting his gaze fall on the girl once more. She didn't say anything, instead busying herself with gathering the cards and shuffling them idly as she waited for an answer. Somehow, she seemed to already know.

Back to the spot or take some crack fortune game? Decisions, decisions. . . Was there really much of a choice?

Sitting down, he sighed heavily. "Okay, what do I do?"

The others cheered as they crowded closer, their eagerness suffocating Yamato as he frowned. The girl before him chuckled, offering a hand to him.

"My name's Sorako. It's nice to meet you Yamato." At first he was surprised she had already known his name as he took her hand warily. But then it hit him that, duh, he was in a band, and thank you captain obvious for reminding him that he was also friends with Heyner, who would gloat to everyone and anyone willing to listen to him blabber on about how he was "buds" with a famous band member. Still, he couldn't shake the strange feeling he got when his and the girl's gazes met. . .

"Likewise." He answered curtly. Sorako took the deck she had been mindlessly shuffling during their exchange, offering it forward to him.

"Okay, Yamato, I need you to hold your hand over the deck and close your eyes." He did as told, not really concentrating on anything. His mind was completely blank of thoughts at the moment except for Heyner's annoying breathing off to the side. . .

"Concentrate." On what?

"The cards are your guide." Oh. . . . Right.

"Do you have any questions for them?" Uhhh. . . . Could his life get any more screwed up? Could he continue ignoring Sora? Would Taichi ever gather enough nerve to tell him why he had taken the girl of his dreams? And why the hell he was trying to actually concentrate on some cards he knew could do him no good?

"They'll answer you, just give me a second." Was she trying to read his mind?! Damn, she was good. "Okay, you can open your eyes now, Yamato."

Following her orders, he watched her take the deck that had been face down on her palm and slowly reveal five cards in a neat row. Sorako smiled, her eyes warming as she ran her fingers lightly over the last cards before heading to the first. Looking up at him, their gazes met and he realized that between when she had looking at the cards and now, her eyes had changed. The pupils seemed dilated, and she looked almost. . . Empty. As her lips parted, her voice also seemed to take on a more serious tone.

Her hands rested on the first column. On it were a card with a flame on it, another with a rockslide, and a final one with an ornately drawn heart.

"To your first question I see a strange answer. I see turmoil but I see passion. Fires meant to be let loose are repressed and become larger with the passing of time. You'll lose control." The audience was all quiet. Surprisingly, Yamato found the answer to fit the question in a strange sort of twisted way.

Sorako moved her fingers to the second set of cards she had set up as he had digested the information. This time, there were only two. One of them had a fully bloomed field of ethereal white and yellow lilies. The other held an angel with a delicate wine glass in her grasp, broken shards scattered upon her white dress.

_Could I continue ignoring Sora?_

"To your second question, the answer seems to depend on what you choose. This card," She said, pointing to the one with flowers, "means that your choices are clear cut and there is no middle road. Lilies are the omen of death or of healing. One way will lead to the destruction of whatever it is the choice is based upon, and the other will lead to a healthy end. The choice is up to you."

"What about the angel with the broken wine glass?" Sorako smiled eerily at him.

"When you make this choice, it will not be of your own doing. Someone will have a great hand in your decision, whether you choose to allow them the right or not. Upon her shoulders rests the fate of your second question." Yamato raised an eyebrow at this.

"A girl?" Sorako nodded calmly, her face expressionless. Her fingers slid gently over to the third column of cards. This one only had one card. On it was a squiggly line heading from one bottom corner of the card to one of the upper corners diagonal from its beginning point.

"Your third question holds a yes or no answer. The cards tell me that there will be a long hard path with this question. What is to be seen at the end only time will tell."

Figures.

Finally reaching the final column, Sorako chuckled, startling the silent watchers with the tinkering sound that filled the space where she and Yamato sat.

"What?" Yamato asked with a small frown of curiosity.

Looking down, he saw that this pile as well had only one card. On it was a dancing clown.

"Here I see annoyance. The cards refuse to answer your fourth question. It is something that you will discover on your own." Rolling his eyes, Yamato got up. Funny, even that one had been-

"Yamato?" Sorako asked politely. He looked at her questioningly. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then simply smiled at him instead. "Good luck to you and the angel."

Forcing down the urge to scoff, Yamato nodded, shouldered his bag and quietly headed off for a walk around campus.

* * *

As soon as he felt he was both out of talk and "thought" range, Yamato sighed in annoyance. _What_ a _nut_ job. Honestly for cripes sake, as if his soul mate, the love of his life, his one true love, the angel of his dreams, would just happen to appear one day and save him. Uh huh. Did he fail to mention he was king of Spain? 

He glared at the cement sidewalk, squinting in frustration. It didn't help that the sun was blaring on his face either. He really hated sunny days with a passion.

To make matters worse, he scowled at the traitorous thoughts that had entered his mind when Sorako had said "angel" during her fortune telling. In his mind he had seen Sora as he knew her in the beginning, before she started to change. She was on a swing, laughing freely as Yamato pushed her. Her bangs were pinned back, her short hair in a messy ponytail. She was wearing her white and purple tennis uniform, having just gotten out of practice and having made a detour at the park with Yamato faithfully by her side.

_"Faster Yamato!"_

Shaking his head, he tried to ignore the ringing laughter that echoed in his head, a jolt suddenly going painfully through him as his heart twisted in agony.

Angels didn't exist; not anymore.

And if they did, than what would they look like? Honestly he had no answer to that. He would've described his girlfriend as a prospective candidate, but look at how things had turned out now?

As of late, he wanted nothing to do with the female population, even though he had found "confessions of love" in his locker quite a couple times after everyone realized that he was single again. He honestly didn't give a crap about anything now. Day by day though, hopefully things would get better. What else could he do but live on? What didn't kill only made a person stronger, but damn the person that decided that pain was the art of living.

Because for once; Yamato truly agreed with the statement.

Maybe the world was just full of demons. Yeah, lots of them. And one of them toting around a new boyfriend, her red hair pinned back pristinely as usual. Standing alone for once by the brick wall making up the side of the school with an anxious look on her face and looking in Yamato's direction. . .

Oh, sh-

_WHAM!_

He didn't know what happened then, but his vision went bright with stars and the world seemed to be yanked out from beneath him. The pain that shot through his skull was excruciating as he clenched his jaw tightly, a groan of pain escaping his lips as he brought a hand up to the smarting right side of his head. It felt as if his brain had been grabbed, thrown onto a roller coaster, and just as suddenly thrown back into his head. When he moved he swore he could hear the liquidy remains sloshing around. Ow, crap that hurt like hell!

Someone _please_ stop moving the world. . .

He began to hear voices, mainly a female saying something to him and then to someone else. He could tell she wasn't speaking to him by the way her voice seemed farther at times, as if she had turned her head.

"Hey, are you okay? Dumbass, that's what you get for zoning out."

As much as he would've loved to retort in his defense, only a moan of pain escaped his lips.

"Let me see." A soft hand grabbed his own to yank it away from where it had been applying pressure to his tenderized skull, and he couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine at her touch. It hadn't been that long, but his body was already missing the contact with another human. He didn't bother to take his hand away from hers, both from lack of energy and from lack of want.

Yamato felt gentle fingers part his hair and he couldn't help but relax at the touch on pure instinct. Then he felt a soft poke at a certain spot. . .

"OW!" Her hands immediately left his hair as he felt her jump beside him.

A sigh.

"You'll be fine, you big baby. You just need an ice pack and you'll be back on your feet."

Some rustling.

"You can open your eyes now, you know." She muttered something he didn't catch as he felt her scoot over to give him space.

Yamato squinted, bringing up a hand to shield his eyes as he tried to get up. He felt her hands supporting his back as he shifted slowly into a sitting position.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked, rubbing gently at the sore spot on his head.

"I hit you with my soccer ball, _that's_ what happened." Was the smart retort. Looking over, he was opening his mouth to retort when recognition hit both him and her at the same time.

"It's _YOU_!" Her violet eyes turned if possible, icier than the last (and first) time he had seen her. A familiar frown was reaching her features as she clenched her fists in her lap. He noticed with amusement that when she frowned, her nose crinkled slightly. She was tense and jumpy now, and she didn't notice the strange look Yamato gave her as she glared daggers at him.

"You know what? I was going to say I was sorry, but now that I know that you're that jerk from yesterday, forget it. You're not getting an apology out of me." She huffed angrily. If she wanted to test his patience, she was doing one hell of a job.

"What is your problem? You have something stuck up your arse, you pompous little brat?!" She bristled at the remark. Did her vibrant flame tinted hair seem brighter all of a sudden? Or was that just the tension?

" You know what, I wish I'd knocked you into a coma with that shot! God knows that over inflated ego of yours is hard to miss!" Somehow, Yamato and the pale skinned spitfire were suddenly face to face, Yamato twisted awkwardly on his side to face her, and she still kneeled beside him. The throbbing in his head wasn't helping much. It seemed to amplify as he reached the end of his patience.

"Well then what's stopping you, short stuff?!" He retorted angrily.

_SMACK!_

Before he could register what had happened, a _second_ wave of pain hit him like a speeding train, jerking his head sideways. He instinctively brought a hand to nurse his stinging cheek, his stormy eyes wide with shock as all his thoughts fled like scattered birds to the wind.

Ouch.

She had slapped him; she had slapped him _good_.

He heard the rustling as she got up abruptly, her lips drawn into a thin line on her pale face. Not once did she look at him as she brushed her uniform skirt off, her sneakers making the grass crunch under her angry footsteps. She left him alone with a swelling bump on his head, stinging cheek, and a bruised ego. Of course, he'd die before admitting to the last one.

What he failed to notice was that Sora had been watching the whole ordeal, her crimson gaze locking with the spitfire's wild lilac orbs as she stalked off angrily. And try as she might now, Sora couldn't get herself to go to Yamato, who sat perfectly still on the grass where the other girl had left him.

But neither could she quell the pang of jealousy that bloomed within her at the sight of someone else touching Yamato.


	4. Embers

**Disclaimer: **No own, no sue. :P

**Ch. 3: Embers**

* * *

She came home as usual, her backpack falling onto her bed haphazardly as she let herself collapse onto the simple twin size bed. She had to admit the accommodations were somewhat better than what she had had at home. Her family had kept to tradition, and thus she slept on a futon on the floor that she was forced to roll up every morning. It felt strange to come home and find that the bed was always ready; always waiting for her to curl up and just blissfully fall asleep. . . 

"Ruki?" The redhead sighed tiredly, closing her eyes as she replied, "In the room."

Out of politeness she didn't say "my". She was just a guest in the house; she had no right, right?

Ruki heard the clicking of heels on wood as an elegant woman came into view in the bedroom doorway, a small smile on her violet painted lips.

She was everything that Ruki knew her mother had always wanted to be: beautiful, wise, and mysterious. She was the epitome of the perfect independent woman, her electric blue eyes catching every little detail through their slanted Chinese/British appearance. Her long silver hair was wavy, framing her face in such a way that hid her from view to those beside her, her thin lips always formed into a subtle part smirk, part monotonous look. The way she carried herself made it seem like she always knew something that the others present didn't; that she knew everything. She could turn men into complete cowards with one look.

She wasn't a business shark for nothing, after all.

"I trust your ride home was alright Miss Makino?" Ruki flinched, whatever drifting thoughts she had been accumulating in her head fleeing. No matter how relaxed she could be here, there was always that nagging feeling that he would find her. . .They both knew.

"Yeah, thanks Rena." The woman nodded to her, her beautiful silver hair swinging behind her as she turned, closing the door behind her politely and leaving the young woman to her thoughts.

Her homework would only take about 20 minutes (thanks to being smart), and not feeling up to it, Ruki shifted so she was laying on her side. Part of her was dying to take the wretched school uniform off and the other part screamed for rest. Eventually she managed to force herself to get up and change into a loose t-shirt and jeans, sitting on her bed and trying to keep herself awake.

She would've given into sleep had her cell phone not started to vibrate on the glass topped desk beside her bed. Her violet eyes looked at the device that demanded attention, a shiver of fear running through her.

Was it him?

Had he gotten her new phone number already?

A tremor passed through her as her blood ran cold. No, no that was impossible! The only ones who had this number were Rumiko, Jenyra, and Rena. But still. . . She had to make sure.

Grabbing the phone hastily off of the desk, she forced herself to look at the flip phone's small outer screen where usually a display of the time stood. Now it revealed a name beside the small icon of a ringing phone.

_**Jenyra calling. . .**_

Ruki let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. Smiling slightly, she flipped the phone open with her thumb, bringing it to her ear. Her other hand was unconsciously relaxing over her beating heart.

"You scared me." There was more relief in her wavering voice than annoyance.

The chuckle on the other end sounded nervous.

"I was wondering if you were going to pick up or not." Ruki shifted, sitting cross legged on the bed as she played with the hem of her shirt.

"Yeah," She muttered, "Me too."

A sigh.

"Ruki, I know things have been hard, but it's getting better isn't it? I mean, you got to start over and leave Shinjuku. And you know you didn't want to stick around here after what happened. . . Even if we miss you a lot."

A familiar lump began to form in her throat as she looked down at the hand stretching the hem of her shirt. Was that her hand trembling? Tears were beginning to blur her vision as a tired look overcame her features. So this was what she had become because of him? A gelatinous puddle of weakness and fear?

Her hands formed into tight fists as she clenched her jaw. Now was not the time to cry. God knows she had already done plenty of that, and she was still embarrassed that Jenyra had seen her in one of her worse moments. But that's what best friends were for, right? Still. Ruki Makino had pride. And come hell or high water, she wouldn't let the past overcome her like this.

"So," She ground out, trying her best to sound normal, "How's my mom and grandma?"

"Oh," Jenyra began, his voice changing, "They're fine. Your mom says that maybe her friend will rub off on you and you'll finally be more ladylike." A chuckle. "She can't wait to go visit you to see if you've changed at all."

Ruki could imagine her best friend sitting in his favorite chair by the desk in his room. His navy blue hair and smiling silver eyes. . . Why hadn't she dated him again?

"But I've only been gone two weeks!" She retorted with a slight frown, shoving down the straying thoughts in her mind. "I can't believe the nerve of that woman!"

Jenyra, sensing the animosity that was beginning to curb the conversation (but not realizing it was Ruki trying to cover her embarrassing thoughts), quickly steered it in a different direction.

"Anyways, Seiko says that she wants to go see you, and I was thinking of visiting you sometime soon too- if you don't mind our company of course." Ruki rolled her violet eyes as she tried to bite back a grin.

"I guess I can tolerate your presence for a little while. Just let me fit you into my oh so busy schedule."

"Of course, of course." Jenyra finished with a laugh.

* * *

Yamato opened the door with more force than necessary but took great satisfaction in the slam it produced as it hit the doorframe when he closed it. 

He was ready to just jump off of the nearest bridge.

His head was still smarting after the incident with that stupid mini bomb (as he had dubbed her after her indignation at being called "short stuff" and the fact that she was explosive), and he made a beeline for the couch in the living room, only to find with great annoyance that the last rays of sunset were streaming in through the slits in the blinds, forcing him to squint and make his headache larger.

Dumping his backpack unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor, he left it there as he stomped into the room he and Takeru shared. Screw the fact that there were neighbors living beneath him, they would have to deal with his attitude for a couple hours. Not that he would be much of a bother anyways, seeing as he was dying for some sleep.

Whatever.

Takeru would be home in about an hour, seeing as he had some student council thing to do. Honestly, that kid overworked himself too much sometimes. He was turning into a small version of their father. Fortunately, Takeru had his heart in the right place, and he kept a level head. Maybe their pop could take a lesson or two from him. . .

The phone rang.

Once, twice, thrice. Each time was like banging a hammer to his head. Next time he saw the mini bomb, he was going to make sure to give her hell. He wouldn't sink as low as to hit her, because he was still a gentleman and believed that hitting girls was wrong--even if she didn't act like a girl. But he'd get back at her somehow.

The ringing stopped.

Yamato sighed in relief, his muscles relaxing. Closing his eyes slowly, his mind began to drift. . .

_RIIIIIIIING!_

He swore loudly, swinging his legs over the edge of the small bed. Trudging over to the phone tiredly, he picked the wireless contraption out of its cradle and looked blearily at the bright numbers. The sun was almost completely set, making it harder to read the glowing screen that contrasted painfully with the shadows of the room.

When his vision finally adjusted to the luminescent green brightness, his hand reflexively held the phone tighter as he recognized the number displayed.

_Sora._

Scowling, he put it back where he found it on the desktop. He flinched when it began ringing again.

_RIIIIIIIING!_

_RIIIIIIIIIING!_

_RIIIIIIIIIING!_

Trying his best to ignore it and his throbbing head, he collapsed back onto his bed and put his pillow over his one exposed ear to muffle the sound-he was curled up with his back to the device. Closing his eyes, he sighed as he tried to give into sleep.

_RIIIIING!_

_RIIIIIING!_

_RIIIIII-_

Stop. Ahhhh, quiet. . . Blissful. . . Calm. . . . Sil-

_**RIIIIING!**_

_**RIIIIIIIING**!_

_**RIIIIIING!**_

He soon came to the realization that Sora wasn't going to hang up until he picked up. Groaning, he threw his pillow and ran a hand over his face. Swinging his legs heavily over the edge of the small bed, he headed to his _brother's_ bed and promptly stole the large pillow there. Grabbing the overly noisy and evil device that was preventing him from sleep, he dragged himself to the living room only to find the other phone, take them both to his dad's room, throw them (and the other one already in there) onto his dads bed, and putting his brother's pillow over them. And for added measure, he put his dad's pillow on top of them too.

Standing near the edge of the bed, Yamato put two hands on his hips as he glared down at the pile before him as if daring it to try something. He could still hear the ringing but it was much more muffled now, thank God.

Satisfied with his handy work, he nodded to himself and turned to leave the room, making sure to closed the door behind him. Honestly, he didn't remember trudging into his room or collapsing into the bed.

But without further ado, he let himself fall into a deep but fitful sleep.


	5. Combust

**A/N: **Sorry for taking so long to update but I have been extremely busy as of late! Still, thank you for sticking with me, and I hope this was worth the wait because I rewrote it several times. XD

It just wasn't sounding right!

Still, enjoy it and please don't hesitate to drop me a review, okay?

* * *

**Ch.5: Combust**

* * *

It was lunchtime the next day and Yamato, for the life of him, couldn't find a spot to eat where Sora wouldn't find him. She knew all his usual hangouts (unfortunately), and she had been relentless in looking for him. 

But lo and behold.

It was one of the only times that his over obsessed fan club had actually come in handy. They had quite cattily told her to buzz off (though not in such nice terms), and though she _had_ in fact backed off, Sora still scanned everywhere she went, her eyes always alert to every person that walked in and out of the premises. Of course, all for naught.

Miraculously, the starving musician found a "Sora-free" zone in the east courtyard where almost no one went.

It wasn't that it wasn't nice or anything. On the contrary, it was a great place to have lunch now that he thought about it. It was just that many people were too lazy to walk around the school to get there and the lower classes didn't really know about it. It was kind of an exclusive senior hangout--at least for those willing to trudge around the school to get there from the cafeteria.

Nonetheless, it was worth it.

A nice view, not many people, no fan girls around here, no annoying Hayner trying to grab his attention, no Sora in view, plenty of space to spread is legs without someone not noticing him there and tripping over him . . . ah yes . . . he had found a little piece of heaven.

He froze in his tracks.

Or it would have been . . . if he didn't see a familiar ponytail of red highlighted hair.

She was seated against the brick wall of the school with her head leaning back and her eyes closed. The way she sighed reflected a lost, worried young woman. Her brows were drawn in such a way that she looked desperate; almost as if she was trying not to cry.

Still, the tears began to pool at the edges of her eyes.

He wouldn't have really noticed except that she hastily reached a hand to her face and angrily rubbed a stray tear away. Sniffling, she scowled in frustration, her jaw clenched tightly in stubborn determination to remain unfazed by whatever had happened. Her lunch lay uneaten beside her.

Yamato stood rooted to the spot as he watched her with near fascination.

She brought up her legs, putting her hand on them and then leaning her chin upon those gingerly. Her other hand was clutching a cell phone tightly, trembling in the grass beside her; it was the only outward sign of anger he could sense.

Looking closer, he watched as the paleness of her knuckles changed to white against the blue of the phone cover and he caught the distinct sound of the small hitched breaths that she tried to suppress.

What struck him the most wasn't that she suddenly seemed so chock-full of serious emotion, though it would make sense because he was just getting used to the idea of her mockery and taunts.

But no, that wasn't it.

It was the fact that he had seen someone sitting _just like that_ many years ago . . .

On the night his dad had left.

It reached his heart and twisted it little by little, stirring pieces of his core that Yamato thought had been long forgotten.

Everything came back in a wave of nostalgia he couldn't stop.

From the arguments to faded photographs, a pillow fight and costumes on Halloween night; dirty socks on the ground, the television on low volume and the perpetual sound of laughter on a Sunday afternoon's picnic. It all hit him and left him drowning in an ocean of memories that he slowly came to realize was _still dragging him down_.

His expression slowly changed without him noticing, the stormy blue gaze locked on the young woman softening and his shoulders slumping slightly. This feeling . . . it had been so long since he felt so down in a familiar swirl of maddening helplessness as he stood silently, watching her attempts not to cry.

And painfully, his already throbbing mind made one final connection that seemed to open a door he hadn't realized was placed right in his face.

Sora had _never known_.

How could he say he loved her and she him when she didn't know? Yes, she knew of his parents divorce, but did she know of the pain and hollow fear it left in him?

_No._

She didn't.

She didn't know of the long nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering if Takeru was okay with their mother in Tokyo. She didn't know he had to learn how to do his own laundry or wash his own dishes. Hell, she didn't even know that he still held a small, useless seed of resentment that even Taichi hadn't ever been privy to.

_She never knew. _

And what if she had? How much worse would her betrayal have felt if he had shared something so essential to his way of being?

The only reason he was holding up so well right now was because he had learned to suck it up and keep going. No drama, no "you'll pay", no redoes.

Simply put, he had dropped her like a worn shirt.

Oh, that sounded _so_ cruel and wrong, but what had he been to her? Obviously not much if she was willing to screw his own best friend. So cliché, so stupid, so damn _wrong_. But a little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that this was life, and that maybe reality was a little harsher than they made it look in the sappy movies Sora loved so much.

So now that he stood here, unnoticed in those moments . . . could he say he had loved her?

It wasn't such an easy concept to wrap his overworked mind around once he really thought about it.

All those memories, all that pain. All the recklessness of complicated feelings that led _nowhere_.

When would it all end?

This thought flew through his mind, forcefully pulled him into many memories that he had kept buried beneath the surface of his steely gaze.

It's funny what one moment in time will unlock, isn't it? It was sort of like watching an old movie--like those on ancient film that was scratched and jumpy. Pieces played, stopped, and leapt carelessly from scene to scene, sometimes leaving at the very peak of the moment of joy or sadness.

But there was one small scrap that was shoved before his inner eye as he chanced a look at the girl who herself seemed lost in an abyss of confusion and nostalgic poison.

The way she sat seemed like she wanted to melt into the wall she leaned against: like she wanted just to become another brick. Yet at the same time, she was screaming. Maybe not out loud, but her eyes spilled what her lips wouldn't.

Just like . . .

For a moment Yamato could see little Takeru again, sitting by the door with the cordless phone in his tiny grasp, heart wrenching sobs filling the small apartment as he sat against the wall.

"_Daddy . . . " _He whispered in a tiny voice, _"Daddy, mommy didn't mean it! Mommy's sorry, please don't go . . . "_

She looked so vulnerable sitting there alone. And if she called for her dad, Yamato wouldn't have been surprised. It just seemed to be a complete repeat of all those years ago. Because just like Takeru, she was bottling everything up.

Maybe her reasons were different but overall, it was the same. Maybe she wasn't as noble as his brother. He guessed she kept quiet most likely from embarrassment of being seen in such a state in such a public place, which was understandable. His brother, Yamato remembered, had done it because he didn't want to bother anyone with his problems.

But now this carousel of nonsense was bordering on ridiculous--pointless with a capital 'P'.

He stopped, sighing heavily as he tried to force himself to turn around and leave. She needed the space and he hadn't the heart to intrude even if he did want to help, no matter how annoying and bratty she had acted before.

The past is the past, right?

Sora was the past. Baby Takeru was the past. And maybe even this scene would become one more dusty memory in the corners of his mind. Just one more moment in the past.

Or at least it should've been that way.

But then she shifted, her eyes landing on him in alarm and a flash of fear as if she had been caught doing something wrong. Now it was his turn to be caught off-guard.

Oops. Busted.

What would be the point of hiding now?

Still. If she wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, that all this had been a fabrication of their twisted teenage minds, he would've accepted. Honestly, somehow he felt he was stepping into something he wouldn't be able to back out of.

It felt sort of . . . _tender_.

It was as if they were standing on the ledge of two buildings, the two of them, with each noticing the other right before they jumped. That momentary surprise and hesitation; that bit of _instant_ _connection _and _guilty conscience_. The realization that there was someone else who had gone through the same thing, only a more custom fit version with excuses and cowardly silence falling uncontrollably between them.

It was that sense that kept him frozen and her unable to speak.

Well, at least up until her face scrunched up into the familiar frown (Yamato once again caught the small wrinkling of her nose). Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears but she looked determined to act as if nothing had happened.

He would've complied with that; in fact, he was preparing for another battle of retorts and insults (and maybe a slap).

Fine.

He'd throw the first stone then because it was only fair. After all, it was _her_ fault he was even this disoriented in the first place. Opening his mouth, he frowned as she beat him to the punch.

But what came out of her mouth was not even close to what he expected to hear.

"Are you going to stare at me all day or sit down?"

Well, sort of anyways.

Yamato's eyes widened in surprise, all words suddenly failing him.

The deep feeling from before vanished only to be replaced with a more familiar sensation. Somewhere within him, the logical side of his brain pointed out that this feeling had only become more familiar because it was only around _her_ that he had ever experienced this (that same side also said that he should jump off a cliff; but hey, who was keeping track right?).

It was that horrid feeling that he had felt when she had hit him with the soccer ball--that reaction where the world had suddenly thrown a fast one at him and laughed as he was left reeling from the impact; or as if someone had yanked the ground right out from beneath him.

Kind of like that bout at her locker.

Every time she opened her mouth around him (which was always accompanied with some form of pain), it only led him down a path of confusion that he was (frighteningly enough) becoming oddly familiar with.

But still.

This was the same girl from yesterday and the day before, right? The one who insulted him, drove him crazy in a matter of seconds, and had the nerve to _slap_ him after having nearly dislodged his brain with that horrid ball of hers?

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he tried to understand just what the _hell_ was going on.

Giving her a suspicious look over, he soon came to the conclusion that yes, this was _her_.

Same red hair with blonde highlights, same violet eyes, same flawless skin, same frown. . . indeed it was her in the flesh before him. Except this version of her had slightly red eyes and a couple sniffles here and there as she tried to silence her crying- or should have.

It was as he was looking at her that he realized the expression on her face in the sudden silence.

Apparently the "mini bomb" also felt surprised at what she had blurted out, her violet eyes wide as she looked up and mirrored his "what do I do now?" expression. She had shocked even herself into silence, her sadness momentarily forgotten.

So they just stared dumbly at each other.

Yamato didn't know how long he stood like that, hovering over her (like an idiot) as he tried to come up with a decision. For crying out loud, how hard could it be to make up his mind? It was either deal with her (and her currently nicer behavior), or go back and confront Sora.

_Well geez,_ he thought wryly, _when it's put **that** way. . . _

Slowly, he went and gingerly plopped down beside her. Well, not _too_ close, mind you, just close enough that if they managed to start a conversation (ahem- _argument_), they could hear each other well enough; and quite conveniently far enough that if she tried to smack him again, Yamato would have time to react. The again, he hadn't even thought of that until he realized how close he was and promptly scooted a little further away.

She was completely unpredictable you know.

And if the other two encounters were any indication, Yamato would have to keep his distance if he wanted to keep his head. Literally. Even though she was in this tender state, he wasn't willing to try her nerves, both for his sake and her own.

So . . .

The silence was painfully awkward.

Now what? Oh God, this was such an awful idea-

"You come here often?" His voice broke through the silence, startling her.

_Stupid, **stupid** mouth. _Yamato thought, mentally slapping himself._ Of all the intelligent things to say . . . _

For a moment the girl beside him looked as if she was trying to choose between being her usual self or answering nicely. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes roaming over the landscape as she tried to avoid his gaze.

The silence that clung to those agonizing seconds felt so drawn out that she momentarily wondered if she had just imagined him saying something to her. What if he hadn't? It would be stupid to be hearing voices and in front of _him_ of all people.

Dear God, she needed a vacation.

Beside her, Yamato was unsure whether to repeat his question or just remain quiet. He didn't want to give her a jump at an insult now that he was trying to cross such a faulty bridge. Running a hand nervously through his hair, he bit on his lower lip and decided against opening his mouth any further unless she responded.

It was so funny, yet oh so _twisted_.

They were both ready for an attack from the other. It wasn't anything like in cliché stories where both sides silently agree on a momentary truce. It was funny how truly similar they were when it boiled down to such a situation.

It made it difficult.

And try as she might, Ruki didn't have the heart for argument right now but kept a slight icy barrier around herself in a weak attempt at defending against an insult she was sure he would hurl her way after yesterday's incident.

Right now the last thing she needed was an argument, no matter how much her blood boiled at the thought of the message that had awaited patiently on her cell phone's memory bank. Just the thought made her scowl.

"Yeah. I always come eat here." She forced herself to respond.

Hopefully he wouldn't notice how horrid her voice sounded.

Well, at least in the week or so she had been in this school, she came here. Teachers barely ever came around, so it was perfect for people trying to use their cell phone (they were forbidden on campus, you know).

The only drawback was the couple that always made out near the grove of trees on the far end.

Ewww.

The blonde haired youth beside her nodded, leaning his head back on the wall.

"School sucks." He said suddenly.

Was that a desperate attempt to keep her talking? If it was, Ruki was grudgingly grateful. The last thing she wanted right now was silence. She couldn't bear it; the thoughts in her head would drive her insane.

"Tch. Tell me about it. This place needs to liven up." Yamato turned to look at her with wide eyes. "_Liven up_?! Are you _insane_? Most of the girls here are rabid fan girls, and the guys all seem to be on a permanent sugar high!"

Ruki raised an eyebrow. "They certainly don't seem like it." She shrugged, and offhandedly added, "Unless you count that weird girl that keeps following you."

Yamato looked at her, bewildered. "Who?"

Ruki sighed, leaning her head back on the wall and closing her eyes tiredly.

"This girl with short orange-ish hair and red eyes. She was there when I nailed you with my soccer ball. She's been watching me like a hawk ever since then." She frowned. "It's like she's an over obsessed girlfriend or something. And if you don't do something about her, I'm going to have to knock some sense into her myself."

Yamato felt recognition and surprise both at once.

Well, recognition because he instantly knew by the description that it was Sora, and surprise because he didn't really realize to what extent she was going to try and reach him. Ugh. Now he felt guilty for making her chase him. Guilt. Oh, this was just _so_ horribly twisted . . .

He frowned.

Ruki cracked open one eye to glance at him and noticed but said nothing. Instead, she shifted positions again, not even realizing that both she and him were slowly becoming more relaxed. Even the silence now didn't seem so stifling.

"You still owe me an apology, you know." The question snapped her out of her straying thoughts, her violet eyes turning to him questioningly. Her brows were up high on her forehead.

"And you still owe me a reason to _give_ you an apology." She replied automatically.

Her violet eyes met his stormy blue ones, both their expressions unfazed. Somehow, they both just seemed to not be into arguing today. Maybe they had called a silent truce for the moment after all.

"I'm waiting." He challenged, mimicking her look.

Then again maybe not.

Ruki broke the eye contact, shrugging lazily as she turned away to look at the sky with near boredom. "I'm not afraid of you."

Yamato frowned.

"I never said I wanted you to be afraid of me. I just want an apology." He retorted.

Ruki shook her head.

"Not getting it." She replied stubbornly. Her nose was up in the air, her words haughty as she crossed her arms over her chest firmly. "Besides, it was your fault for being such a dumbass and walking straight into the path of the ball. You could've dodged it if you tried."

Yamato's frown deepened.

"Well sorry, your highness." He muttered.

_Whap!  
_

"What the hell?!" He snapped angrily, bringing a hand to the back of his head where she had given him a good smack. She had _very_ fast reflexes. Damn it all to hell, this woman was going to _kill_ him!

"Stop being an idiot." She snapped.

"As soon as you stop being a bitch." He retorted.

She glared daggers at him.

Why, oh why did this seem familiar?

What a wasted lunchtime.

Tomorrow he would be back in his usual brooding corner away from this violent nut case. Was he a nut magnet or just very unlucky? He should seriously consider just shutting himself in a classroom from now on . . . or maybe go to the library and be a nerd, holing himself up behind an impenetrable wall of books and glasses with coke-bottle rims. . . how fun.

"It's people like you that made me be a bitch." She suddenly said, scowling at him.

"Oh, cry me a river woman."

"Only if you'll drown yourself in it."

"At least then I won't have to deal with people like you."

"Ha! You probably can't even deal with yourself!"

"I'm better company than you, that's for sure."

"Yeah, especially since you come with a stalker included."

"That's none of your business!" He hissed.

It came out sounding a lot harsher than he had intended, catching both of them off guard. The momentary fire in his eyes went out all at once as he sighed tiredly, turning away from her moodily. Ruki raised an eyebrow but said nothing, her eyes betraying the curiosity at his sudden flare of anger.

There was a moment of silence as they each recollected their thoughts.

"You're an idiot." She finally muttered. Yamato looked at her from the corner of his eye, noticing her gaze was fully on him.

"And you're-"

"A bitch, I know." She rolled her eyes, a smirk on her features when she noticed Yamato's frown.

"I was going to say annoying as all hell, but that works too."

"Yeah, right."

Ruki turned to gaze at the trees surrounding the courtyard, watching the bright rays of the sun dancing as the breeze ruffled the leaves. The sound they made was soothing--even if the company was less than soothing in itself.

"You know," Yamato began suddenly, shifting positions, "I've been insulting you, and you me for three days now, and I don't know your name."

"No, you can't have my number." Ruki replied, making a 'way-out-of-your-league' face as she turned to glance at him. She suppressed a growing smirk before turning back to watch the trees in their wind dance.

Yamato rolled his eyes, not noticing the way she tried to hide her amusement.

"Oh, _puh-lease_." Honestly, was she for _real_? What a conceited little-

"No." His eyes widened as he realized how his words had been twisted and he threw his hands up in frustration.

"For crying out- that's not what I meant! Forget it." He raked a hand through his hair as his temper began to rise.

"Forget what?" She goaded him, suppressing a snicker as she noticed his frustration reaching a boiling point.

Is this how Kazu felt when he messed around with her? No _wonder_ he did it to her so much! The blonde beside her honestly looked like he was going to pull out his hair soon; or strangle her. Both maybe?

"_Get a grip girl, I was just teasing, ya know!"_

Something made her heart fall at the reminder of one of her former friends (yes, Kazu was her friend—no, he would never hear her admit it). It unsettled her to hear his teasing voice in the annoying laugh she had grown used to. It seemed to intermingle with the cool breeze as it caressed her ear.

Suddenly, messing with the boy beside her wasn't so fun anymore.

"Ruki."

He looked at her in confusion, her sudden emotional shift unnoticed.

"Rookie what?" He asked dumbly, caught off guard.

She rolled her eyes as she regained her composure, swallowing down the burst of emotion with a slight grimace. Turning to him, she allowed annoyance to instead overtake her features.

"Ruki. Is. My. Name." She pronounced every word slowly, looking as if she was trying to talk to a deaf person. Her voice was certainly loud enough.

Yamato looked at her, flustered. "Oh, right."

"Idiot." She muttered under her breath, turning away. Yamato rolled his eyes but said nothing.

A moment passed like that, both of them too lazy to really try and break the silence they had built. Or at least, _he_ was enjoying it. Ruki was still waiting on an even exchange.

"Well?" She prodded.

Yamato was about to answer when he thought better of it and closed his mouth. It was _his_ turn to frustrate her now.

Serves her right if you ask him . . .

"Well what?" He said, feigning a lost expression.

Ruki frowned, narrowing her eyes. He wondered momentarily if she had been born with that face or if her parents had taught her it. It was the sort of anger that almost seemed . . . cute?

"Stop being stupid and tell me your name, dimwit!"

Well, it was sort of cute . . .

Up until she opened her mouth.

"And if I don't feel like it?" He challenged, smirking at her rising annoyance.

Now he could say they were even.

"Then I'll tell that girl that you were here." Ruki replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

_Ouch._ He froze at her words, grimacing.

Her violet eyes were narrowed dangerously, the most evil grin Yamato had ever seen plastered triumphantly on her face. She snickered.

"Gotcha."

But before he could retort the school bell cut him off. Ruki got up from her spot beside him, dusting off her skirt and grabbing her bag. She began to walk and then hesitated as if she remembered something she had forgot to say. Turning to look at him, a smug look spread her lips slowly into a smirk.

And by that look on her face he realized she couldn't resist really driving her win home.

"Since you didn't give me a name," She began with a casual shrug, "I'll just have to tell that girl of yours where to find you."

Watching her with wide blue eyes, Yamato swallowed, laughing weakly.

"Funny, very funny." Raising one hesitant brow, his gaze locked with hers as she stopped. "You're kidding . . . right?"

Laughing, Ruki walked away, leaving him sitting in the grass with a look of bewilderment on his face which was totally priceless.

He, on the other hand, watched her go and felt sick dread in the pit of his stomach. For the rest of the day, he had a wonderful little bout of paranoia looming over him as he kept recalling her words. And the lunch he had been starving for lay uneaten in his locker until he began his walk home to sanctuary.

Where nutcases like her couldn't scare him.


	6. Smoke

**A/N: **Okay! Well, things are going somewhat well I think. Lol. Uhhh. . . . thank you guys bunches for your support:)

This chapter is more of a filler-ish type deal, so bear with me and we'll see the small stuff through bit by bit, k? A little insight as to what is going on behind individual doors. . .

**Disclaimer: **If I owned them, I think I'd be forcing you guys to watch this on television, not on your computer screen. Hahahaha. Joking. ;) Enjoy.

**

* * *

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**Ch.6: Smoke**

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* * *

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The fountain was soothing and calm, reflected in the wavering pools of lilac of Ruki's eyes as she sat on a bench with her mouth set into a grim line and her hands clenched firmly in her lap.

She didn't move; hadn't stirred in what seemed an eternity as her thoughts fell and lifted to the rhythm of the winds. And yet they were anything but peaceful, leading her down dark tunnels of her heart she had tried to neglect until now that they were pushed to the forefront of her mind in a sudden rush that left her confused.

Beside her sat Rene MonDigi, unreadable and unwavering in the cheery silence that emanated from their surroundings. She could sense the turmoil in the younger woman sitting beside her but made no effort to change it.

She understood, in some twisted way, the inner workings of the young Makino's mind and felt it best to allow her a moment of reflection as they sat there together, an old lady feeding pigeons on another adjacent bench.

And it would've continued that way, but Rene had made a promise to Rumiko and she would not go back on her word. She had promised to at least try and get the young girl to reconsider what she was deciding in the heavy matter. But from her violet eyes to her clenched fists, the silver-haired woman knew that it would be impossible to do so.

But at least she would give it one weak attempt, if only to say she had tried.

"You don't have to make up your mind up about it now." She finally said, breaking through Ruki's thoughts harshly.

The younger girl turned to her, her violet eyes locking with Rene's blue ones. There was a deep-seated resentment in them-an anger that had been long fueled by the loss of a fantasy world where her father hadn't left her, and where he hadn't-

"Why waste three months when I have my answer now?" She replied in an even voice. "I refuse. It's that simple, really. I don't want to see him, and I don't want him to know I'm even here."

"You never know what might happen in three months, Ruki." Rene retorted, slowly pushing her glasses up as her eyes narrowed. Ruki was unfazed by the implications behind her words.

"That doesn't change my answer."

"And if he were dying right now? Lying there, begging you for forgiveness before he-"

"And if you were in my shoes, Rene? Would you forgive him?"

Rene turned away from Ruki then, looking at the fountain.

Thinking about it now, she would've probably shot the man. But of course, this wasn't her problem, and hell, that wouldn't even help matters in any way. She was ruthless and unforgiving in such tender pains, relentless and never budging when it all came crashing down around her. Whether for better or worse, she saw that same spark in Ruki.

But there are some things that just couldn't stay the way they were because Rumiko had insisted that she talk to Ruki and try to convince her otherwise; and that was exactly what she was doing . . . sort of anyways.

But if this was the girl's decision, she wouldn't impose on it. There were just some things that could not be forgiven. And this, this was most definitely one of them, no matter what Rumiko thought. Rene's heart wasn't really into it and so instead she said the only thing she had left to say, because they both knew this was a required waste of time for both their sakes.

"You have three months. Until then I will not ask further of you."

Ruki barely seemed to have acknowledged what Rene had said except for the slight narrowing of her eyes. Silence once again took over the cheery afternoon, the breeze sending a strange chill through the redhead as she got lost in her thoughts.

It took her a few moments to follow Rene as she got up and began walking back to the parking lot where they had left her car. They walked like that, Rene in front and Ruki in back as the redhead let her mind stray once more.

Looking up, she frowned as her gaze fell upon the whitewashed walls of Shinjuku Hospital. It was inevitable not to see the imposing building with curtained windows and people coming in and out. To Ruki, it seemed to reek of death and despair no matter how white and clean it seemed on the outside. It made her own blood run cold.

Tearing her gaze away, she continued behind the older woman, jutting her chin out stubbornly and her face slipping into a familiar mask of indifference.

Because that was what he deserved, lying there in the hospital bed in room 309 . . .

Indifference.

* * *

A picture. 

A CD.

A book.

Two boxes of chocolate he had totally forgotten about.

Her favorite sweater.

He finally took up the courage to get rid of everything that reminded him of her that weekend. It was like spring cleaning in the middle of the year and it felt strange. There was already a large black bag stuffed with her things sitting by the door of his room, and as he turned up the volume on the radio, he took a chance to step back and look at his handy job.

Now it just looked . . . empty.

Two years worth of a relationship were now sitting squished in a black bag that was full to brimming. Thinking about it now, he regretted that the same could not be done with his brain. How simple that would be! Simply pick and toss . . . how much of his life would he have decided to throw away then?

Shaking the unsettling thought away, he glanced at the clock and realized it to be quite later than he originally thought it to be. Flicking a strand of blonde from his eyes, he hefted up the bag and headed towards the front door, clumsily grabbing for his cell phone and keys on the kitchen counter before flinging open the front door, only to find he almost ran headlong into his brother.

Takeru looked from the bag to his brother and raised an eyebrow.

"You're actually cleaning the house?" His question sounded between a mix of bewilderment, surprise, and amusement. Yamato frowned.

"Just thought I'd give Sora back what she left here." At the mention of her, Takeru's features softened into a more cautious look, as if he had stepped into dangerous territory or said something forbidden. He seemed to flounder with that for a moment and then decided on sighing, taking off his hat and running a hand through his short blonde hair.

"You uh, need any help with that, bro?" Yamato shook his head in response, forcing a grin onto his features to reassure his younger brother.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be back soon, okay?" Takeru frowned at this, not liking what his brother was doing.

No matter how much his older brother tried to hide it, everyone knew that he was in a lot more pain than he let on. And the way he was trying to get over the situation . . . he honestly didn't think Yamato was ready to be able to talk things out with Sora yet. It was too soon for him.

But it wasn't his choice, and maybe things would work out better this way with him confronting her now, instead of later. So instead of trying to stop him from going, Takeru simply nodded, shuffling past him and into the threshold of their apartment.

"Make sure dinner's ready before dad comes home!" Yamato called over his shoulder.

"Yeah." Takeru called, still distracted by his thoughts as he was about to close the door. But then his brother's parting words finally registered in his head and he frowned, swinging the door open again. "Hey! It's your turn tonight!" He called after him.

Yamato simply laughed, giving a mocking wave as he continued to the elevator.

* * *

"_So you're not going to do it?"_

"Why would I?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line, and then she heard rustling. She could almost imagine him repositioning himself on the bed, his legs crossed and his back arched as he ran a frustrated hand through his blue hair. If she paid attention to the background, she could almost hear the clatter of Jenyra's sister Shuichon attempting to cook.

"_I guess you're right."_

There was a heavy silence that followed his remark, Ruki sighing as she fell back on her bed and allowing her thoughts to stray for a moment. Jenyra knew her well enough that he understood the cues to back off from a subject. Still, it was strange talking to him like this over the phone.

It felt so . . . impersonal.

This was the person she trusted the most. The person who understood her inside and out and seemed to almost literally live at her house sometimes. For cripes sake, the guy had most of his stuff in the guest bedroom!

Of course all of this was reciprocated back in the same manner, to the point where seeing one without the other was a bit strange. Except now.

He knew she had dropped by Shinjuku earlier that day but made no fuss about what had happened. No one except him knew she was going back to town for a few hours. It was unsettling to be back and see things already start to feel alien to her.

Like she didn't belong anymore.

"Takato hasn't burned down the bakery yet, has he?" She asked, trying to shove the strange feelings away.

Jenyra laughed.

"_No, but you should've seen the explosion of flour he and Guil left in there yesterday."_

Leaving two clumsy boys to take care of something as dangerous as cooking is never good. Especially when it was Takato and his best friend Guil involved.

"Figures. How long is goggle-head grounded for?" Jenyra snickered.

"_Three weeks. Not counting the time it'll take him to clean it all up."_

"And don't forget to add on the time Juri's going to give him the cold shoulder for not being able to see him for that long. She's going to be furious."

"_Yeah. So don't be surprised if you get more calls from her than usual."_

"God knows I need the distraction. Tell goggle-head thanks for it. I'm sure I'll be up 'til dawn talking with her from now on."

Jenyra laughed again. It was then that Ruki recognized a loud screech in the background.

"_Shuichon just burned something."_

"I think you should go help then before she takes down the whole apartment complex."

"_Watch the news tonight and make sure everyone knows it was Shuichon's fault." _Ruki smirked.

"No worried, I will."

"_All right, I'm out." _

"Bye Jen."

"_Later."_

Snapping the phone shut, Ruki lay on the bed for a moment before forcing herself to get up and grabbing her keys. She didn't grab a coat; it was late fall but it wasn't really cold enough yet to necessarily need more layers. Closing her bedroom door firmly behind her, she shuffled quietly past the couch where Rene was sitting with a book in her lap and a cup of tea in her hands.

"Going out?" Her eyes didn't come up from the pages.

Ruki hesitated at the front door, stuffing her feet into her sneakers before nodding. "Yeah, I'll be back soon."

"Be back before seven."

"Okay."

And without another word, Ruki closed the door quietly behind her, heading down the hall towards the elevators in the apartment complex. Maybe exploring the town would help ease her mind a bit. Fresh air was always nice, or so her grandmother loved saying.

She just hoped they had a nice park.


	7. Coal

**A/N: **Wooow, ten pages. I'm starting to get back into the swing of things again, yay! Enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: Yes I own Digimon Tamers and heck, I own the Destined, too! I also own Mercury, the Moon, and a fourth of the Sun.

If you believe all that, be my guest and sue me. You might get some lint if you're lucky. Lol.

**Ch.7: Coal**

He hadn't crossed the threshold of the apartment complex entrance in such a long time that it felt like he was a stranger now where he didn't belong, even though he knew the building inside and out. Or rather, _they_ had known the building inside and out.

This time he was walking in alone.

It was so strange doing this. He could see her in front of him now, leading him along the way as she pulled on his hand and glanced back with a grin on her face. Her cheeks would be tinged pink with the exhaustion from running around during some practice or just because she had tried for the millionth time to outrun him even though she knew it futile because he had longer legs than hers.

"_It's not fair." _She would say then, pouting cutely at him.

Up the elevator, down a couple twisting corridors that at first glance seemed completely the same, and past Mrs. Kurosaki's decorated door. The path had grown so familiar and worn that he had more than enough time to think about Sora and wonder where exactly he had gone wrong.

Not that it would make any difference now. Especially here in front of her door, swallowing down the echoes of her laughter that kept ringing in his ear.

The Takenouchi home was the third door down from the corner of the corridor, a place simple and unadorned.

Making a light fist, he rapped on the door with it and stepped back from the doorway. Dropping the bag beside him, he crossed his arms over his chest, frowning as he tried to keep his eyes away from the entrance.

He didn't want to see her first thing; her reaction. He didn't want to see the shock, or even the smile that might play on her lips from him finally having decided to answer to her calls. Or maybe even that warm laugh that sparkled in her eyes whenever she flung it open.

"_You're here!"_

The door swung open then and he half expected that smile with subtle dimples, only to come face to face with a woman, he realized, that was not redhead nor crimson-gazed. She was in her middle forties, brown eyes widening as they landed on him in complete surprise.

It was obvious to him then that she knew as they stood there scrutinizing each other in momentary confusion—a lost translation. Why else would she not expect him standing there at her door?

There was an awkward moment of silence between them, Yamato unsure of what to say now that it wasn't Sora at the door like he had expected. After all it always seemed to be her getting the door whenever he would come over to see her. _But things change_, a harsh little voice reminded him. Too quickly, apparently, for him to even keep up with anymore.

Swallowing the dark feelings he kept a straight face, too tired to really want anything other than to just get this over with. What else could he possibly do, if he wanted to salvage the last of his dignity?

"Mrs. Takenouchi," He said, bowing respectfully to her, "Is your daughter home?"

Mrs. Takenouchi's features softened in apology as she shook her head slowly.

"Sora's not home right now, I'm sorry."

Wait—what day was it now? Monday? Replaying the day in his mind, he tried to remember. Oooh, it was _Tuesday_. She had tennis practice today and probably wouldn't be home for a couple hours.

Bummer.

"Alright, thank you, Mrs. Takenouchi. But, um, I have a couple of her things that I'm sure she'll want back, and I'm wondering if it's ok with you if I just leave them here for her then?" He gestured to the bag at his feet.

Glancing down, she nodded her consent as she opened the door more and stepped out of the way. "Go right ahead, dear. I'll be sure to tell her."

"Thanks." He said, picking it up. Shuffling past her, he made sure to drop it somewhere where he knew Sora would see it upon entering, yet not letting it hinder the small hallway of the apartment. He headed towards the entrance then, stopping right inside the doorway and bowing to her politely once more before bidding her goodbye and stepping out the door.

Sora's mother watched from her place near the threshold, debating whether or not it was for the best to mention something that Sora had admitted just a couple hours earlier to her. But just looking into Yamato's lost gaze was enough to give her an answer. Because apparently, he was feeling the same ache as her daughter.

Maybe . . .

Maybe things could still be . . . worked out?

"Yamato-san." She called after him. He froze, turning to look at her. She looked indecisive, afraid almost. Her gaze locked with his then and she sighed tiredly before letting her eyes stray to the side nervously, unconsciously wringing her hands. Really she shouldn't meddle but . . . they were _both_ suffering, she could see that. And as angry as she was at Sora for doing what she had, sometimes people committed mistakes and deserved second chances . . . no?

Maybe their relationship deserved this second chance.

"She still misses you."

Those words . . . dear_ God_, those words. They hung in the air heavily between them in the cold silence of the nearly empty hallway of the apartment complex. But there was no turning back now. As a mother she had done her best and now everything was solely, once again, in Yamato's hands.

He felt the weight of this as her gaze fell on him, trying to read what she could from his lack of reaction. But already he was one step ahead of her--he wouldn't be Sora's plaything anymore no matter how much she begged for him to return because she had been the one who refused him. And to put her mother up to this only served to irritate him further.

"Please . . ." His stormy gaze flicked to hers then, cold and unresponsive as he tried his best not to show the pain and anger that had flared at her words. "If she's still missing something, she knows where to find me."

So instead, Yamato chose to walk away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The park wasn't too hard to find after all, but a corner to herself in it was. As the sun began to go down, the kids started slowly to trickle out as parents dragged them out or the children willingly ran home to a warm meal and a good night's rest. Instead of joining in their trek home though, Ruki pressed through the crowd and went to sit on a swing, silently pushing herself higher and higher.

Really . . . this shouldn't be so hard.

Every time she kicked off farther, her eyes landing on a point off in the horizon before coming back down to the ground.

Up, down, up down, up, down. It was simple and predictable. A rhythm that could only be broken if she deemed it to. That control of knowing what would happen, when it would happen, and most importantly, that she could _make_ it happen--it was comforting.

Too bad she couldn't say the same for her life.

It wasn't that she didn't know what she wanted. Oh, she knew alright. She wanted a good education, to be able to make a good living, and to be able to finally let go of the man that lay in a hospital bed a couple of cities away, dangling between reality and death, swinging like a pendulum back and forth between the living and those long gone.

The swing creaked as she fell.

She couldn't control that. No matter how hard she tried, there was still a part of her that had already forgiven what he had tried to do to her. And no matter how hard she tried, there was that small part of her that just _couldn't hate him_.

And she hated herself all the more for it.

Because this wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to have left them all those years ago and _never_ _return_. And she was supposed to hate him with all her heart; to be able to live on and let him be that small shadow of doubt in her mind every once in a while. That little voice in her head that told her to make him proud, or to always remember to brush her teeth--to wash her hands before eating and never forget that she was his little princess.

The one who told her that no matter what, to never let their promise go.

And as these thoughts drowned her, the swing began to slow until finally she came down and sat idly, using the tips of her sneakers to guide herself with weak little nudges.

"You weren't supposed to come back." She whispered, her hands clenching the chains of the swing in tight fists. "Why can't you just go away?"

"_Why can't you just stay?"_

Funny, how all those years ago she would've given anything to make him stay. And now that he actually wanted to return, she wanted nothing else than for him to _leave_.

But things had changed. How could he be surprised that life went on without him?

It was too late for him to try and remedy what damage he had done to her and Rumiko no matter how sincere of an apology it was. And even though her mother had forgiven him, Ruki refused vehemently to grant him that peace of mind because he had torn her apart when he left their home. _He knew what he meant to her_. He had broken their promise as soon as he opened the front door and stepped out, so really, there was nothing left there for her to hold onto of him.

He had left. No address, no phone number, no nothing. It had been like he had never even existed, except for the small picture that had sat on her nightstand, a constant reminder of what the other kids in the neighborhood had that she didn't anymore.

Well . . . until that one night, it seemed.

"_I'm home." _He had said to her as they stood looking at one another.

Ruki had looked at him in shock then, fear, even a seeping fury that seemed to echo in the cold hollows where her father's love had been. She didn't tremble or move at all. Seeing him there, looking almost exactly like in the small picture he had left behind was almost too much for her.

He hadn't seemed to change much. Except now, there were some gray wisps among the familiar shock of red hair and his blue eyes seemed a bit older, surrounded by lines that would turn to crinkles, she guessed, if he just smiled.

And so they had simply stood there, looking at each other, her gaze narrowing the slightest of bits as she answered in an even voice that she didn't even know she had.

"_You burned your home a long time ago. There's no room for strangers here."_

And then she slammed the door in his face.

But that . . . that had been a year ago.

For a year she had lived through the torment of his calls, his desperate visits, his intolerable presence. And no matter how cruel it sounded, she was glad he wasn't free to do anything anymore. Because even now, confined to a bed in a hospital room, he still seemed to haunt her.

Even here.

She sat like that, unmoving and grim in the silence of the abandoned park as she was consumed by her thoughts. Her ears didn't even catch the approaching sound of footsteps as a young man stopped in mid stride, recognizing her only by the violet of her lost gaze and the familiar length of red hair. He stood hesitant for a moment simply watching her.

She looked . . . in awful pain.

And before he even understood what he was doing, he walked over to her side.

"Need a push?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, jerking around quickly.

It was the blonde haired boy from school, except now dressed in casual attire—a plain black tee and baggy jeans. His hands were stuffed into his jean pockets as he came to lean on the pole of the swingset, one eyebrow raised as he waited for her to answer. For a moment she doubted it was him, up until he looked at her with the stormy blue gaze she was unknowingly becoming accustomed to. Strangely, she could always pick him out in a crowd simply by looking at his eyes. Or if she was lucky, sometimes even just his hair. Strange . . .

"What?" She asked dumbly, trying to snap back to reality.

"You've been sitting there for a full minute like a statue." He shrugged. "I was just wondering if you wanted a push." Now it was her turn to shrug, nodding slowly.

His hands wrapped around the chains slightly above where she had hers, Ruki tucking her feet underneath her as he pulled her back and then let go.

"I almost didn't recognize you." He said, giving her back a push as she came down. "I didn't realize it was you, with your hair down."

The redhead kicked her feet out as she went up, bringing them down so as to help herself gain momentum. There was silence for a moment as she tried to swallow what he had said.

"I usually wear my hair up," She answered, staring at the rooftops of homes she could see as she reached higher up, "it's just . . . I forgot my hair tie before I left."

What was she doing, giving explanations to him? Mentally kicking herself, Ruki frowned as he pushed her farther up. Little by little things in her mind began to blur with the colors that passed as she swung, her mind now preoccupied with unwanted curiosity towards the boy behind her.

He was silent. Maybe he too was looking for a place to think? She momentarily wondered if she had taken his favorite thinking spot, and then thinking better of it, decided that it was now hers.

He'd have to find a different one.

This silence though . . . it felt different from usual. It wasn't calm. It was too thick with thoughts of things she'd rather forget at the moment and she hated it. The squeaking of the swing chains was going to drive her insane.

"So what brought you to the park?" She asked, kicking out once more.

_Squeeeeaak. Squeeeeeaaak. _

Yamato shrugged as if she could see him. Still, she probably felt it in the way he spoke.

"Just walking home." Ruki nodded.

_Sqeeeaaaak. Sqeeeeaaak. _

"You?"

He was answered with nothing but the swing's creaking for a full minute and he thought that maybe he had strayed onto a topic he shouldn't have. But she broke through this thought as she replied, "Just . . . exploring."

He kept pushing her, not really starting any more conversation because honestly, he had none to offer and after a while she didn't seem to mind. Even the usual little spats didn't seem as interesting right now. He was too wrapped up in his world, and she was too busy trying to look farther into the horizon every time she went up.

Occasionally they would make some small talk, but really it died too quickly. They answered each other in short, clipped sentences only out of the fragile civility of the moment.

He learned she had to be home by seven and that she had yet to finish a paper that was due tomorrow on the pros and cons of abortion. She found out he didn't really have a curfew and that he was avoiding going home so he wouldn't have to cook.

He played in a band.

Her mother was a model.

He hated bananas.

She thought he was weird for not playing any rock music.

Then there was quiet once more.

It was after these revelations and a moment of peace (to digest this new information) that Ruki asked him what time it was, and he answered after pulling out his cell phone to check that it was 6:45 and that she had to start coming down if she was to make it home in time.

She frowned.

"What, are you timing me now?" Giving her back a firm push as she came back down, he rolled his eyes.

"Just thought you'd want to avoid getting in trouble." Kicking out at the top, Ruki shrugged.

"What if I don't care?"

"Well then," Yamato retorted in frustration, "get yourself in trouble, I don't care."

He wasn't going to be responsible for her. Hell if he was going to pay for her mulish ideas. Giving her one final push, he sighed and went to lean on the pole, watching as she slowly began to come down.

Her highlighted hair seemed to burn in the last of the dying sunlight, the amethyst of her eyes glittering not with mirth, but a deep-set stubbornness he had never seen spark so strongly in anyone before. Watching Ruki now, he realized how fragile she looked and how contradictory that was with the way she carried herself.

Her hands were small, but that didn't stop her from picking fights with him. She was short, but her aura demanded attention and sometimes made her seem taller and stronger than she truly appeared. And the way she carried herself demanded attention no matter how much older or how much more authority someone might seemingly have over her.

She was strong in a way no other girl he ever knew had been. And for the first time since he had met her, he felt actual respect for her.

"If you're done staring at me now, I'm heading home."

But of course, that moment was short lived.

Sighing, he pushed off the pole and began trotting to catch up to her as she began to walk home. Stopping suddenly, she turned and her eyes narrowed dangerously as she scrutinized him.

"Why are you following me?" She demanded, her arms crossing over her chest. Noticing this, Yamato stopped, blinking.

Was she stupid, or was she just suicidal?

"I'm walking you home." He answered. Honestly, was it that hard to decipher? "You shouldn't be outside by yourself now that it's getting dark."

Scowling at him, she turned and began to brusquely walk away.

"I can take care of myself." She retorted over her shoulder.

Sighing in frustration, Yamato hurried to catch up to her.

"Still, I'd feel better if you let me walk you home." She glanced up at him, raising a thin brow.

"And who said I care about your feelings?" Frowning, he met her gaze with a glare of his own.

"You're not going home by yourself." She scoffed.

"Like hell I'm not! What are you, my bodyguard?"

"Until you get home, yeah." He retorted as they walked.

"You're-"

"Not letting you go home alone. End of story." He cut in, looking down at her. She scowled up at him, throwing him a frustrated glare before huffing and turning her gaze away from him. Then she simply started turning the other way.

"Wait, where are you-"

Ignoring him, Ruki continued walking towards the corner convenience store they had passed on their way and threw the door open before stalking in.

When he made it inside past a couple isles to the freezers that lined the back wall, he found her debating silently over two bottles she held—one with a blue liquid, and another green.

"I'm thirsty." She said, opening the freezer she was currently in front of and stuffing the green sports drink back. Yamato sighed.

"Thanks for the warning." He retorted.

He followed her to the front register where he saw the unmistakable violet hair of his friend's girlfriend. There really was no way to confuse her with anyone else because on top of that, even though the person was bent over, he could see the thin rims of her glasses and a thin, pointy nose poking out as she sorted some merchandise in a box at her feet. Looking up from where she was crouched, Miyako Inoue blinked once in surprise before smiling a greeting to Yamato and then turned to Ruki.

"Uh, hi! What can I do for you?"

The redhead silently put the drink down before reaching for her wallet, not noticing the other girl's bright violet gaze flick questioningly from her to Yamato.

"You two know each other?" Miyako asked, pointing from Ruki to Yamato and then back. Ruki opened her mouth to answer but was beaten to the punch by her companion.

"Yeah. We go to school together."

"Oh, then any friend of Yamato's is a friend of mine!" Grinning, she pushed the drink back to Ruki. "On the house."

Raising a brow, Ruki muttered a thank you and grabbed it before beginning to turn to leave. Miyako glanced at Yamato as she pushed up her glasses, trying to suppress a growing smirk. "She's pretty."

Turning, Yamato glared at her as he silently followed Ruki to the door.

"Tell your boyfriend I said hi." He muttered.

Miyako laughed, waving at them as the bell chimed to announce their departure.

"Yeah, I'll tell Izzy, don't worry!"

Yamato was surprised to see Ruki standing on the sidewalk corner waiting for him when he finally made it out the door. Her violet eyes seemed to glow in the light of the streetlamp she was standing beside and for some reason, an image of Sora came to mind.

"_Yamato, you're such a slowpoke! Come on!" _Then she would grab his arm, giggling as she dragged him along the streets on their date.

"I like that girl."

He turned to Ruki, snapping harshly back to reality as the image faded from his muddled mind. He tried to repress the heaviness of the memory, shoving Sora's ever present smile forcefully back as he swallowed and met Ruki's sideways glance.

"Huh?" She sighed, frustrated at having to repeat herself before taking a long sip from her drink.

"I said that the girl in there—I like her." Yamato couldn't help but laugh as they began to walk.

"Yeah," He began, glancing back at her before continuing on, "you wouldn't be saying the same thing if you met her somewhere else."

Miyako had a reputation for having quite the mouth on her and never holding back whatever she thought about someone. If she didn't like something or someone, everyone could be sure she'd let them know it. It was strange really, because she was quite the contrast to her boyfriend Izzy, who was always quiet and tended to keep to himself.

"Well," Ruki said smirking, "I met her _here_, so I like her."

Rolling stormy blue orbs, Yamato shook his head as they continued on.

"Yeah, ok"

They continued on in silence for a few darkening blocks, their only source of light being passing cars, a few open 24 hour markets, and streetlamps. Occasionally they heard a barking dog, or a television from a window that was probably left open. The curtains were drawn on every home window they passed as the residents settled in to eat or rest or whatever they chose to do in their final daily hours.

Ruki and Yamato continued like that until they finally reached the apartment complex at which the redhead stopped and turned to him.

"You can stop stalking me now. I think I can manage from here without getting kidnapped." Grinning, Yamato shrugged.

"Ok, if you think so . . ." Turning, he began to walk back the way they had come. "If something happens to you in there, you can't blame me." Ruki frowned as she finished the last of her drink.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Goodnight Ruki." Opening the main door, she turned to watch him leave.

"Night blondie." Flinching, Yamato turned in time to watch Ruki smirk before turning and heading inside.

"Yeah . . ." He muttered. "Whatever."


	8. Pyro

**Ch.8: Pyro**

**A/N: **Oopsies, I is sorry for being soooooooo late XD Who ever knew life was such a pain in the bahookey? Please don't ask me where that word came from, I have no clue myself. . .

**D**: Dear goodness do these people never get tired of reading "I don't own them"? I guess not since they are the rich and famous self-proclaimed gods of anime. . . Possibly. . . ?

* * *

"That girl with him was pretty cute." Miyako shamelessly took a large bite of her sandwich, pushing up her glasses with a finger as her gaze flicked to her companions.

"He hasn't said anything to me." Takeru said sadly, watching as his girlfriend took a fry. "You heard anything from Tai, Kari?"

She shook her head, the fry in her fingers suddenly seeming unappetizing. In her eyes was a deep worry that seeped into the grim line of her lips. "He hasn't said anything to me since the news spread."

"What's she look like?" He asked, turning his attention back to the girl currently stuffing her face. Miyako hesitated, put her sandwich down, and tapped her chin with a finger as she tried to remember with more detail.

"She was really pretty. Could've passed off as a model. She's taller than Sora but she has red hair too, except hers is longer and has these blonde highlights in it. I think her eyes are light purple."

"Sounds a bit high maintenance, don't you think?" Frowning, TK stuffed a fry in his mouth as he turned to Kari.

"She was actually more tomboyish, believe it or not. Well, she struck me that way anyways."

"Guess there's nothing we can do but I have a feeling Sora isn't going to stay put." Kari, said, looking from one to the other. "I was talking to her a week ago and I know she wants to apologize for what she's done. She's really sorry for hurting your brother the way she did. I think she's thinking of doing it soon so things will be settled between the three of them. Tai says he wants to apologize too, but that he's not going to give up Sora no matter how bad he feels."

Frowning, TK turned away. "I don't think it's going to be that easy."

Miyako shrugged.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

Without realizing it, Yamato had come to terms quite quickly that Ruki was not going to budge when it came to her favorite lunch spot and that there was no way in hell he was going back to where he used to sit with Sora in the open main schoolyard. So he stayed, much to Ruki's apparent annoyance—which of course only made it all the more fun to annoy the living daylights out of her.

"Touch it and die." His hand froze near the open chip bag, smirking as he defiantly went against Ruki's threat and continued reaching into the-

_SLAP!_

Grimacing, he pulled his hand back as he glared at her. "What the hell, it's just a chip! Besides, you were facing the other way, how did you see me?"

Taking a small bite out of her sandwich, she turned to him with frustration across her features as she chewed and swallowed. "I see all." She said, delight obvious as her eyes narrowed in a cat-like smirk.

"Hmph." He muttered, unfazed. But not before grabbing the bag of chips and stuffing one in his mouth right in her face. "Right."

"Damn straight I'm right." She went to take a bite, then couldn't resist as she turned to him to add his newly acquired nickname. "Blondie."

Really, he couldn't help but cringe at the nickname, but he loved to laugh at the fact she didn't know his name yet.

"You're a pain."

"Takes one to know one." She said, finishing the last of her lunch. Picking up her things, she grabbed the now empty chip bag (Yamato had pretty much hogged it) and slapped it in his face. "You can throw that away, seeing as you pretty much stuffed my chips down your throat."

"Bitch." Yamato muttered, grabbing the chip bag and rubbing at his now smarting nose.

* * *

The rush of sixth hour students shoving their way around to scramble on out of school was always the worst crowd, and the one Ruki avoided like the plague. So when she finally came out of her government class she was surprised to see that she wasn't the only one lingering around the now empty hallways.

"Um, hi, my name's Sora Takenouchi."

Once every blue moon, this Sora girl, (or whatever she said her name was) would decide that she had the guts to try and be friendly to Ruki even though she damn well knew that Ruki wanted nothing whatsoever to do with the other redhead.

Because well, the Makino spitfire always made sure to let her know she wasn't welcomed.

Ignoring Sora, Ruki shoved her government book into the locker, grabbing a folder and stuffing it into her backpack. Grabbing her mp3 player, she put the headphones in her ears and slipped the black device into her blazer pocket as she slammed her locker shut—quite literally.

"I never asked for your name." She said. Then just as smoothly, she walked away-

Well for about four feet anyways, until she started hearing the click-clacking of the required school shoes on dirty tile.

"Don't you think you're being very rude? I try to make friends with you and this is how you thank me?" She stopped then, turning to the other girl, amused at the frustration in the ruby glare aimed at her. "I mean, is it so hard to just say hello?"

"Look," Ruki said, her gaze narrowing dangerously as she jabbed a pointed finger at the other girl, "I don't know what the hell you want from Blondie, but I have nothing to do with it. So stop stalking me, stop talking to me, stop trying to even get _close_ to me, because let's face it, you hate me just as much as I hate you. _**Stop wasting my time**_."

By then, Sora was too speechless to retort.

"I-I don't hate you." She stammered, trying to keep everything from literally crashing and burning. "And fine, I do want to talk to Yamato, okay?"

"That has nothing to do with me. I don't care." Ruki turned on her heel and began to walk once more.

"But wait! Before you go, could you just tell him for me that I want to see him?" Stopping, the redhead cringed angrily before turning slightly.

"Look, I'm not some stupid little messenger girl for you to just-"

"Just tell him this once, please?" Her violet gaze narrowed as she scowled. There was a moment of tense silence, and then Ruki sighed.

"If you ever try to pull some shit like this again, I won't hesitate to sock you, got that?"

"Yeah, okay, I promise!" Sora said, relief flooding her voice. "Uh, just tell him that Sora really wants to see him." Ruki raised a thin eyebrow in question.

"That's it?" Sora smiled nervously. "Yeah, for now I guess."

"Alright." Turning on her music, Ruki began walking, praying the whole way that Sora wouldn't change her mind and add more. Thankfully though, once she reached the end of the hall, the other girl had already disappeared out another door.

* * *

"Why are you here?" She was swinging again, but this time she hadn't even bothered to stop at home. Besides, she was allowed to be out as long as she came back by sunset or at least called to say where she was—which she had.

"I should be asking you the same question." Ruki retorted, her gaze flicking from the sky to him.

"You don't own the park ya know."

"I don't see your name on it either." The response came almost automatically.

As she swung back down, he dropped his stuff next to hers and leaned on the pole, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"You know," She said, "for someone who seems to hate me, you sure like hanging around me a lot."

"Well," He said, shrugging nonchalantly, "you're different."

"Yeah. I bet. After hanging out with ditzes all your life, I bet I _am_ different."

"It comes with the band life I guess."

"Well then, you have nothing to complain about since you like it." Ruki glanced at him as she propelled herself higher on the swing. He had become was eerily quiet.

"I haven't. . ."

Curiosity getting the best of her, Ruki let the swing slowly come to a halt, raising an eyebrow in confusion as she scrutinized the suddenly somber atmosphere around her companion.

It didn't take her much to notice the jaded hue of his usually strong gaze, or how his usually passive "cool" façade had slipped. His shoulders were slumped and the way he stood seemed to her the posture of a defeated man.

"I haven't written a new song in nearly a month. . . I also scrapped anything that I had ever written for her."

Her? Her as in, that Sara or Samantha, or whatever girl?

At that point, Yamato couldn't really tell how she felt hearing this or whether she would rub it in his face but it had reached a limit in his head, and for some reason, he didn't care if she knew.

It took him saying that to realize just how out of synch he was with his usual self. To not write a song in such a long period of time was unheard of for him. His notebooks were full of unfinished lyrics, songs that never saw the light of day, and possible stage ideas. Since the day after he had seen Sora and Tai in the alleyway, the margins of his notebooks had become strangely white and clean- totally blank of ideas and soul.

There was silence between them for a moment.

"Hmph." Looking up, he watched as she kicked off the ground again. "Way I see it, you're just being a lazy ass."

"Yeah," He retorted, frowning. "Easy for you to say."

"No, it's not." He followed her form as he tried to understand what she was trying to say. "Still, that doesn't give you the right to be a wimp. You're not worthy of annoying me if you're just going to be a baby and sit there doing nothing. For cripes sake, whatever the hell it is, move it or lose it. If you love music half as much as you say you do, then suck it up and write more of that crap girls will fall madly in love with you for, you idiot."

The trees stood still, as if also trying to digest what Ruki had said. A little girl slipped past Yamato, laughing happily as a puppy trailed behind her, nipping at her heels in makeshift tag. Blonde bangs fell into his face as he dipped his head in thought, crossing his arms and leaning against the pole of the swing set. Behind him, Ruki continued to silently contemplate the horizon as she went up and down.

"I guess you're right, as much of a pain as you are." Slowing down, she smirked at him.

"Still," He started, cutting off any possible retort, "I'll do you one better."

Digging her heels into the dirt, Ruki looked up at him cautiously, her eyes narrowed as she tilted her head slightly.

"I'm listening."

Pushing off of the pole, Yamato came to stand in front of her, taking a hold of the swing's chains and bringing his face dangerously close to hers. He smirked when he noticed her violet eyes widen and how she unconsciously pulled back from him. He could tell she was rendered speechless.

It was his turn to smirk.

"I promise you that one day, I'll write a song that will make you fall in love with me."


End file.
